The Right Sort
by Kyo's Favorite Kitty
Summary: You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there." A short bit of good-doery to lighten the mood. HPDM if you squint hard. One-shot


Pg 108

Harry slunk down the hallway as quietly as he could manage in his bare feet and pajamas, the Marauder's Map hanging limply in one hand, the invisibility cloak in the other. He had heard raised voices from his bed in the hospital wing and come to investigate who was out at such a late hour. The recently broken wrist he had acquired in a Quidditch match ached fiercely as he clutched the ratty old parchment, but he was afraid of going out without the warning it would provide.

"Lumos" he whispered when he was safely ensconced in a window ledge outside the infirmary that was barely visible to passers-by; not that there would be passers-by at three AM, he realized. With a quick look around, he rolled open the parchment and whispered "I solemnly swear I am up to no good." Pictures, words, and people appeared in a flurry of ink. The hallway parallel to his own appeared to be occupied by Malfoy, Nott, Zabini and their arguing. Although the noises had grown quieter, they had probably heard the floor creak as he moved toward them, they were still hideously audible for such an hour.

With swift determination and not a little curiosity he flung the cloak over his shoulders and pointed his wand at the map, "Mischief Managed" he whispered, followed quickly by, "nox." His heart set on determining the cause of the fight, he set off quickly down the stone corridor, the moon lighting his way. The voices were raising again and he heard several thumps and the soft escape of air that followed someone being punched. He could see the faint glow of wand light from around the corner.

"Stop being such a pansy, Draco." Nott intoned as he hit the smaller boy's shoulder, "It's not that big of deal to sneak into the infirmary and hex him. He'll be asleep, no one will know it was you. Not that you should care if they know, you are still a Slytherin, right wimpy-boy?" He hit him again.

Zabini stepped in where Nott had left off, "You gotta crush on Potter now Malfoy? Wanna suck up to the Golden Boy? Or maybe you wanna suck something else." Draco swung up and hit what Harry had thought, until this moment, was his best friend in the face. Blood sprayed and Blaise cursed violently while both he and Nott kicked Draco back to the floor. "You think you're so great, with your rich mommy and your pure blood? Think again traitor, everyone knows you betrayed Voldemort. He may be dead but his followers aren't and you're next!"

They started in on the boy again kicking him hard and knocking him down whenever he struggled in vain to rise from the harsh stone floors. Harry was grateful they hadn't used their wands to inflict harm on the blonde, but realized it was only a matter of time before they realized their mistake. His decision was hard, save the boy who had made his life a living hell or leave him to be mangled by his cohorts? Before he'd even finished the thought he knew it was no good. He was going to save the ferret whether it hurt him mentally or not.

First, he checked to make sure the cloak was completely covering his body; it wouldn't due to be recognized. Then, he silently traced his way back out of vision-range down the hallway. He then walked as loudly as possible several steps toward their hiding place, his bare feet making enough noise to sound like Filch's leather boots. "Who's there?" he shouted harshly, doing his best to imitate the caretaker's raspy drawling voice, "I catch you and it's the shackles for you!"

The lights instantly went out and he heard the scurrying as the boys rushed away to find a darker and more concealed spot, hopefully far away. Harry then rushed to the hallway to see if the small blonde boy was alive. At first glance, he seemed to be fine; sitting up and rubbing his shins as if to bring the life back to them. Then Harry noticed the blood dripping down his face from a broken nose and a rapidly bruising eye where he had been hit.

"Are you all right?" he whispered from the end of the hallway. Draco looked around in fright, searching the darkness in vain for the owner of the voice. Finally he found his own ability to speak, "Uh, yeah. I'll be okay. Who… who are you?"

Turning his back on the boy as he drifted to a window, Harry let the cloak fall from his head and shoulders and scrunched it up into his hands. "It's just me" he told the window. A sharp intake of breath told Harry that Draco had not been expecting him. Seemingly, however, the fight was gone from Malfoy's body as he let out a sigh. "I suppose you saw all that so there's really no point in trying to pick a fight with you. Besides being beaten by one's allies tends to leave one in no position for future fights."

Harry turned to face Draco in the dimly lit hall and tried to study the face staring so studiously at the floor. "You'll soon find out that some wizarding families are much better than others, Draco. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there."

He held out his hand to help Draco up and, to his surprise the blonde boy took it and allowed himself to be pulled up and supported by his formal rival. He still refused to make eye-contact with the taller boy, apparently recognizing the familiar words of his boyhood cockiness, as Harry began dragging him down the hallway towards the hospital wing. Despite being beaten and ragged Draco still held tense in Harry's grip. "I shouldn't be letting you help me you know" he managed as they limped down the hallway.

Harry couldn't help using a few more of the boy's words against him. "I'd be careful if I were you Malfoy," he said slowly. "Unless you're a bit politer you'll go the same way as your friends. You hang around riffraff like Zabini and Nott and it'll rub off on you."

Draco tensed at the harshness of the words, but relaxed when he realized Harry had no ill intent and the words were meant to lighten the mood. He scoffed and then let out a full throated laugh, startling several portraits into wakefulness. "Merlin I was a cocky little first year." Harry laughed along with him as they limped the final few steps into the infirmary.

As if drawn by the presence of those in ill health, or else finally realizing one of her charges was out of bed, Madame Pomfrey appeared to take Draco to another bed and heal him while Harry returned to his own bed for a blessed bit of sleep. It wasn't until the nurse had left and they both lay awake in the darkness of the hospital wing that Draco dared ask Harry what he's been dying to all night.

"Why did you do it?" he whispered, knowing somehow that Harry was just as awake as himself, "Why did you help me? I've never been anything but awful to you."

A ghostly chuckle came from somewhere near where Draco imagined Harry's bed to be and then fell silent. The other boy had almost given up waiting for an answer when one finally came. "Because that's what the right sort of friends do."


End file.
